


One last time

by Toska_Litost



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Guilt, How to tag lol, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toska_Litost/pseuds/Toska_Litost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, our ghosts are all we have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One last time

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly just wanted to practice writing since I've been so out of it lately, not to mention the fact I've been dragged into reaper76 hell and Welp, what's better to write about than this?  
> Some pointers on what I need to improve on would be very much appreciated btw ^ u ^

Warmth ran down along the length of his jaw, bits trickling from his lips, a metallic flavor overwhelming his taste buds. His arms remained at his sides, no longer twitching for his pulse rifle that had long skittered away, leaving sparks and flakes of paint in its wake. The soldiers visor had shattered, leaving him at the mercy of swirling tendrils of black smoke, filling his lungs until his senses became numb, a deathly laughter sending chills through his spine. 

"G-Gabe, please.. I-i'm sorry." The man barely wheezed the words from his vocal chords, his ribs fractured from the unrelenting blows struck by none other than Reaper. 

No response. What had 76 expected? For the man to just drop his shotguns and pull him close? No, of course not, but at the very least he managed to apologize. There was so much more to say, so much more regret weighing on him, crushing his soul till it broke, yet here the soldier was, gasping for breath, unable to utter much more than a few words. 

A freezing hand grasped his chin, holding 76 still, the point of a gun pressed to the side of his head, digging into the mans skull. 

"That's not my name. That man's been dead for a very, long, time." 

There was malice in every word, each of them sending stabs of pain through Jacks chest. What had he done to the man he once knew? How blind could he be to let everything fall apart? 

"Do it then.. You've been wanting to haven't you?" 76 leaned his head further into the barrel, simply waiting death to take him. It was his fault, he deserved it. Through the years he'd convinced himself wholeheartedly, there wasn't anywhere to turn back now. 

"Just know.. I didn't.. Didn't mean for this to happen. To leave you to become this..." 

Jack didn't know what value his words held, not to the man that had been buried, not to the man he had personally torn apart. 

"Stop apologizing. The Jack I knew stood back up every fucking time!" 

Clawed hands grasped 76s jacket collar, lifting him up from the languid seated position, forcing him onto his feet, his fractured ribs protesting in sharp bursts of pain, the shotgun previously pointed at his head pulled away. 

"What do you want... Gabe? For me to fight you? We've done enough of that haven't we? Finish it!" The man growled in frustration and pain, the ever growing stiffness of his feet dawning on him. 

Reaper paused, the trigger barely having been touched before the gun followed the mans hand to point at the ground. He didn't know what he wanted. He'd dreamed of this day, Jack fucking Morrison at his feet, bloodied and hopeless, yet it didn't give him any satisfaction, only a dull pain pulsating in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? 

A thump shook him from his thoughts, his head whisking downwards to see 76 collapsed on the ground, struggling to stand, the intensity in his eyes wavering. Gabriel could see it, the temptation of sleep in those dull shattered orbs, the heavy weight of exhaustion hanging on his eyelids. Perhaps they both died on that dreadful day, he didn't know. 

"Up." His tone was suddenly softer, not a thread of malice in them, but even so it was gruff, ordering, just demanding the attention of the man on the ground who'd managed to stagger onto his feet, arms wrapped around his sides, no doubt in an attempt of shielding them from any further damage. 

"You're getting slow anciano." 

The Latino receded into smoke, wisps curling and prodding at the old soldiers feet, eventually enveloping the man in a manner that could almost be described as gentle, the shadows rapidly transporting him into the nearest abandoned building.

"This is the last time mi amor, for old times sake." 

The words were barely a whisper, a breeze of a past ghost, his time long passed, the brief sense of nostalgia clawing him back. Upon realizing his foolish actions, Reaper was gone in an instant, the last creak of splintered boards signaling his leave, letting the old soldier ponder in guilt and regret.

**Author's Note:**

> Anciano - old man 
> 
> Mi amor - my love


End file.
